…. Oh, but they are. I mentioned in my last post that I was up dancing to The Buccaneers last week, not just tapping a foot or swaying to the beat, full on dancing, shaking it baby! Man, it felt good. Friday night saw me in Stramash for The Scat Rats doing the early evening slot; the lads were on top form, the audience (scant as we initially were) were audibly appreciative but no one danced. I know I praise Messrs Marah and Rough a lot, but really, In The Morning was sooo good – are they getting fired up now that their mini-tour is getting closer?
Second set started with a bang, One After 909 by the Beatles (great song, a regular inclusion in Bluefinger sets back in the day), still no one dancing. The place was starting to fill nicely, everyone was having a great time tapping fingers and feet, not even Listen To Your Mother could entice anyone up (and it really should have), and then, too soon, the final song You Can’t Judge A Book By The Cover. The Buccaneers finished with that in Binkies, I danced then, by god I was going to dance now, so screwing up my courage I headed over to where a vague acquaintance was showing increasing signs of needing to dance. Would she like to? – Oh no, not just us two in front of everyone. She clearly wanted to dance! – But her friends wouldn’t. Turning around there was a line of folk all itching to move more than just a shoulder to the beat, if we got up they’d follow – Really? So I asked them, will you dance if we do? Yes, hallelujah, we started dancing and they joined us, as did plenty others.
Amazing what desperation will make you do, but someone had to get the ball rolling and last night that someone was yours truly. After that the ball stayed in play and any half decent tune got people dancing, the crowd were raring to go by the time the next band came on. I took my leave and headed home some time after midnight, if I’d been wearing socks they would have been well and truly danced off! That was truly a moment of happy for me, I miss my dancing days, or rather, nights. Oh, I never chose to stop dancing but, well, places close down, friends’ lives drift apart. But Brucie, you go out to see bands plenty, why not just get up and dance if you want? Because, because, like the lady and plenty others last night, I feel the fear.
The fear is a powerful deterrent, it can be subdued by copious amounts of alcohol but that can often result in the fear plus a dose of shame the following day, not good. My fear was drilled into my psyche in my teenage years good and proper; twice, a few years apart, I learnt that others are watching, judging, mocking, condemning you as a wierd freak. I learnt that if you’re out alone, but still trying to make the best of things, without the protection of a bunch of buddies, any hyenas nearby will sniff you out. Yes, that was many years ago now, but it can be hard to shake these things off. And hey, everyone has their own doubts and fears – next time someone tells you your fears and worries are irrational and daft, ask how they feel about spiders! Now that would be irrational, to fear spiders (here in the UK anyway).
And while I’m letting off a little steam, here’s another thing ……. a relative of mine recently accused me of being obsessed with a certain band! What?! Me? At the time, I made some feeble, mumbling jokey retort. Well, he’s just a scornful old misery guts, always out to deflate others’ enthusiasm because he feels none for anything anymore. Wish I’d turned round and asked when was the last time he felt passionately about anything! Certainly never in this century. Yes, my enthusiasm when I find something I love is amusing to others, but sorry, not sorry, that’s just the way this moose is.
Must go now and tidy round a bit before I head up to Stramash for the late set after midnight – it’s The Buccaneers, yay! Will I be dancing? Who knows what the night will bring, but probably not. In the morning though, I totally intend to do something that’s really scary to me but is water to a duck’s back to others. Wish me luck!